


In the dead of the night

by WritingforTheAvengers



Category: Crimson Peak - Fandom, Thomas Sharpe - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Crimson Peak Inspired, F/M, Short Smut, Sir Thomas Sharpe changed my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingforTheAvengers/pseuds/WritingforTheAvengers
Summary: You’re the daughter of one of the richest men in town, and you’re bound to inherit his business and that is how you met Sir Thomas Sharpe, a mysterious English man that is just about to find out that you rule town and you want things your way, and your way only.





	In the dead of the night

You saw him walking out of the main office. His suit seemed to be a bit old; you could tell from afar, but it was quite well-kept for the years it must have had. His black hair was longer than the usual for a man, and if you really looked at him, behind that pristine skin, he showed some sort of misery, the typical misery from a life that was most probably not easy.

He was tired; the bags under his eyes gave him away, but you couldn’t quite decipher if it was because of the long journey from one side of the ocean to the other, or because his soul was a rather tired one. You were taken away from your thoughts as your boss coughed loudly next to you. You took a deep breath and looked up at him.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Mr. Hughes started with his deep voice, “could you _please_ take our future associate somewhere nice tonight?” He pointed at the slim, tall man with his fat fingers. “Maybe going out for dinner? Perhaps a show at the theater? Get creative,”

“What do I look like to you, Mr. Hughes?” You asked in a melodic voice. “You know, there are special women for that job, and as far as I am concerned, I am not that, now am I?” you smiled widely and from the corner of your eye you saw the man, the future associate, trying to hold back his laughter. “And I’m quite sure he’s a grown up man and he could get by on his own, right?” Mr. Hughes tried to say something, but his words got stuck on his tongue.

“As much as I’d like to, ma’am,” the black haired man chimed in, with a dazzling English accent, “I have arrived here just a few days ago, and I still don’t quite know my way around town, but it seems like you have something else to do, so it’s quite alright—”

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, “someone’s got to save the company, right?” You rolled your eyes in exhaustion. “Lucky you, I’m the heir to this so-called throne,” you stood up and extended your hand to the English in an unladylike manner; it seemed more like a 'men's handshake' rather than a lady expecting to get her hand kissed. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I hope after tonight we can really be associates,” you flashed a smile, ignoring everything that happened around you, Mr. Hughes included. His green eyes were like a siren’s song and you were nothing but a fool sailor on the way to doom.

“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” he held your hand in his pale one, and as if he made every second of your skins touching count, he leaned forward to gently brush his lips on the back of it, “the pleasure is all mine, I hope,”

“Mr. Hughes,” you said as you took your jacket from the back of the chair, “if my father comes tell him I’m making business, nothing to worry about,” you pulled from Sir Thomas’s hand and lead the way out of the office.

You took him for a walk near the park, just to get to know him better. He was Sir Thomas Sharpe, the last Sharpe –along with his sister—in a long line of Sharpes. He had a big, old, house back in the mother land and he had nothing to rely on more than the family business that had been kept forever: clay mining; something you never thought it could be a thing. His sister, Lady Lucille, hadn’t married, and she still lived with him; unfortunately –not for you—she wasn’t able to come along with him so she had to stay at home taking care of both the manor and the business.

“Are you and your sister very close?” You asked. “For the way you speak of her, you must be,”

“Quite close, yes,” he nodded, but in his voice you could tell there was a taint of gloominess.

“And do you miss her?” You bit your bottom lip nervously. “Do you wish she was here now?”

“Not as much as you would think,” he shrugged carelessly, and obviously absent from the conversation. Once he felt the tension in the air, he asked, “and do you have any more siblings?”

“They all died at a very young age,” you shook your head, “I am supposed to be the oldest, but truth is that in time, I’ve become an only child,” you sighed, looking away, “my youngest brother took my mother away when I was just 10,”

“I’m so very sorry to hear that,” he gulped, finding your eyes with his piercing ones; for a minute, and even though you were sitting, your knees felt week. “So, are we really going out for dinner tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll make the reservation and pick you up at 9. Be ready,” you smiled wickedly and kissed his cheek goodbye. For a woman your age, you were quite the daredevil and all girls gave you a nasty look just because you couldn’t care less for their opinions.

Just a few minutes past 9 you arrived to the restaurant that you had so carefully picked. The food was incredible, and with his company, it tasted even better. With a bit of liquor, Sir Thomas seemed a lot more eager to share his secrets; a life of abandonment, the constant pressure that his sister put on his shoulders, and even the need for freedom that he longed so badly and that in just a few days he was getting. He did say he envied you, for being the only child of a very loving father, and the freedom and financial independency you had from it.

“A woman involved with the economy and money?” Sir Thomas asked as he took the glass to his lips. You tried to look away, but the way they pressed against the clear glass was absolutely mesmerizing. “America is quite a wonder, isn’t it? Are you sure you’re not interested in politics as well?” He laughed, showing his perfect teeth in his wide smile. You noticed how his nose wrinkled and his eyes slightly closed; you wondered how long had he been without laughing so purely.

“Things are quite different on this side of the pond, Sir Thomas,” you replied with a quick rise of your brows and a slight smile. “Women do give me a strange look whenever I go around, apparently I don’t fit in the pattern. You’d have to live with me a lifetime just to start understanding my conception of the American way. I can’t imagine how things would be like in England.”

“They are much different, as you correctly assume,” he give you a quick nod, “and are you happy with the life you’re living? Doesn’t it get a bit lonely?”

“I don’t know,” you replied with a sigh, “I have to admit that sometimes it does; men are too afraid of my personality and my only friends are the maids at home. I talk to them a lot because I don’t want to worry papa with my nonsense, he’s got a lot of work on his own to be worrying about the female struggles,” you shrugged and took the glass to your lips and let the amberish liquid run down your throat. “But I think my life is bound to be very busy in a matter of years so probably I will have no time for a husband,”

After hours of conversation and drinking, your head felt a little light and your senses were numbed by the amount of beverage you just had. It was not a common thing that you could drink like a man, but with such a great companion and with an even greater conversation, hours flew away and alcohol ran down your throat like water.

Somehow, you woke up the next day wrapped in the comfort of your sheets but you were not sure of how you’d made it there. Your maid knocked softly and made her way inside your room with a silver tray full of things so you could recover your energies.

“A fine, English gentleman came around earlier today,” Anna said in a melodic and accusing voice, giving you a knowing smile, “and he wanted to see you,”

“What did you tell him?” You hurriedly asked, feeling less hangover now.

“That you weren’t feeling alright,” she assured you, “but he promised to pay you a visit at 7,” just when she was about to leave the room, she turned her head to you and said: “Beware, (Y/N),” her voice was now more serious, “he might be English and charming, and have a pair of green eyes that would make any woman melt from the inside, but even I can tell he’s a fortune hunter. Do what you want with him, but don’t let him trick you,”

“I thought you knew me better, Anna,” you took a hand to your chest in a faked offense, “he might be everything you said and more, but I have an empire to look after when the day comes. I have greater things in mind rather than a man who might only like me for the fortune I have… Papa raised me well,” you replied; it took you a second to realize how cold your words sounded and how cold-hearted you grew up to be. “And he did not raise a fool, at least not entirely,” she sighed in both relief and worry and left you alone with a hunger that was out of this world.

At 7, and as promised, Sir Thomas Sharpe was welcomed inside the house. You came down the long staircase wearing a long, baby blue dress. Anna came down with you, giving you her final warnings on the English. You told her that you knew quite well what you were doing, but being completely honest, the minute you saw him there you were lost. His eyes were all you could see, and the necessity of making him reveal his deepest secrets grew ardent in you; well, not only that, but also the need of undressing him to witness how England blessed the men.

You invited him to have dinner together; just the two of you again, and he seemed a lot more reserved than at the restaurant. Michael, your butler was there to keep an eye on the stranger just as Anna told him. Nevertheless, he was still as charming as usual.

The night was still warm; summer was on its highest point and people walked around town as if nothing could ever interrupt their happiness. You told Michael that you’d go for a little walk and that you wanted to be alone for “as long as you needed.”

“Sir Thomas,” you said, when you were far enough from the house, “you ought to know that I’m the kind of woman who always gets what she wants, always” you smiled wickedly, “and I hope my intentions with you meet yours towards me. If you don’t feel the same, then it’s quite alright and we will never speak of it—”

Sir Sharpe interrupted you by cupping your face with his slim hands and pulling you closer, crashing his lips on yours to kiss you so ardently, yet so softly that you thought you’d melt right there. Your hands held on to his wrists, not wanting to let go of him because he was without a doubt the best thing he had happened to you in many years.

He seemed so eager to have you in his arms, to be finally able to kiss you even though it hadn’t even been 24 hours since you two had met. It wasn’t love, you were sure about that, but what you felt for him was more than that and you didn’t need to put a name or label on it. You felt something for Sir Thomas Sharpe, and that was all you wanted to know. Well, that, and that he was apparently on the same page as you.

You were not sure how, but in just a matter of seconds –or at least that’s how it seemed in your mind—you were back at the house, completely unseen by the staff. You took him to your bedroom, and after you locked the door as you usually did, the fun and games begun.

He kissed you again, and walked you to the soft mattress in which you fell, and in the dead of the night you’d surely go unnoticed. You slid away from your dress and started peeling off his vest and shirt. The garments revealed a pale skin that seemed to shine under the moonlight, and there were also some rough parts on it. His childhood must have been difficult, otherwise you couldn’t explain why there were scars on such canvas.

His long fingers traced your side, moving along with your curves and melting with your skin to be just one. His lips parted from yours to kiss their way down your breasts and stomach, reaching your throbbing innermost thighs, where his free fingers lazily played with your sex, making you squirm and tremble under his greedy touch.

“So sensitive,” he growled in between kisses, “so ready.”

He positioned himself in between your spread legs and when you were about to beg him to fuck you senseless, his mouth was capturing your bud and sucking hard on it. You threw your head back and had to suppress a loud moan. Your hands tangled with his soft hair and kept him in place while he worked your folds so right that you could have sworn you were seeing stars, and not exactly those up in the sky.

Once he decided it was enough torture, he kicked off his pants and positioned himself on top of you. With his hands on the sides of your body, he began thrusting; slowly at first, so you could have the time to adjust to his size. He had his forehead pressed against yours, and when you started to feel better, you nodded to let him know that he could increase his speed, which he happily complied.

He glued your lips to you just for the sake of keeping you silent as he had you at his mercy; you wanted him to do whatever he wanted with you. You were his, and he was yours. He pounded you hard and fast, and it was blissful. You were a mess; a shaking, sweaty and complete mess.

After coming, he stayed with you, caressing your hair and just being a complete sweetheart. He looked at you with the most loving eyes someone had ever given you, and if it wasn’t for Anna’s words earlier that day, you would have given him everything.

You covered yourself with the silk robe that hung on the door of the wardrobe, and saw Sir Thomas as he dressed up again. His eyes were shining, and when he looked at you, a wide smile spread on his thin lips.

“I have to go,” Sir Thomas said as he buttoned up his shirt and fixed his hair, “my time here is very little…” if you didn’t know better, you could say he didn’t really want to leave. “Thank you, for an interesting evening and a pleasant night,” he bowed his head.

“Sir Thomas…” you bit your bottom lip, reaching out your hand to hold his, “if you ever come back… we might have another dinner just the two of us, wouldn’t you like that?” You lingered with his fingers, tangling yours and not even looking at him; if you had, perhaps you would have told him to stay there with you for an eternity.

“(Y/N),” he placed his free hand under your chin and made you look up, “you have made me the happiest man in just a matter of hours and I can never thank you enough for that,” his voice was softer than ever, “but you know that a comeback is quite uncertain for me, the place I call home is quite far away from here,”

“I know,” you nodded, shaking your head, “but first…” you placed your hand behind his head and pulled him for one last kiss. You needed to have him more, to taste yourself again on your lips and you feel loved. He kissed you with such tenderness that you could have melted right there in his arms; for a few hours, he was everything you needed and more, and you wished you hadn't been raised so coldly against other people. So what if he was a fortune hunter? At least he knew how to keep it. “Thank you,” you sighed.

You walked him to the backdoor, making sure no one would see him sneaking out; he was one with the shadows and soon after, he disappeared from your sight and your life


End file.
